


Taranis

by Tulak_Hord



Series: Legacy of the Revenant [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: BAMF Obi-Wan Kenobi, But he got one against his will anyways, Dooku is too proud to admit he needs a hug, Gen, Heavy on the lore, Jedha, Lightsaber Colours and Meanings, Obi-Wan is Dooku's padawan, Obi-Wan's saber is darker than the Darksaber., Prescient Obi-Wan, T'ra Saa- mother of all BAMFs, The Jedi Lords, The Whills, stewjon culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26009767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tulak_Hord/pseuds/Tulak_Hord
Summary: Taranis- 'Lightning'Jedi Master Dooku or Darth Tyranus- Obi-Wan Kenobi's master may be called both but is truly neither.The first interlude for 'Legacy of the Revenant'
Relationships: Dooku & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Dooku & T'ra Saa, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Luke Skywalker
Series: Legacy of the Revenant [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887805
Comments: 39
Kudos: 339





	Taranis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Count_Saruman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Count_Saruman/gifts).



> To Count_Saruman, who managed to complete my impossible references challenge in Part I- 'Gar Tal'din ni Jaonyc; Gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la' and declined the giftfics offered, wishing instead that the stroies within offered gifts be revealed naturally in time with the tale as it progressed. As such, this interlude, which would have come anyways, shall serve as the gift instead.

**_ TARANIS _ **

Of the fools who went in search of the proverbial ‘light at the end of the tunnel’, little could be said except words of pity- and yet it was precisely pity that Obi-Wan Kenobi wished the least.

He did not know how long he had spent in the cold darkness of the Kyber Labyrinth; only that he had walked the path of the master, not that of the apprentice, and there was thus no guiding light to aid him at the end of his journey.

By accounts from afar, Obi-Wan Kenobi was little but a typical Jedi Padawan of thirteen years old, with the only thing remarkable being him having already taken the trial of the Kyber in the first year of his apprenticeship. If one conducted one’s research, one would perhaps pause at the knowledge that he was apprenticed to the renowned and feared Jedi Master Dooku.

If one were blessed with the gift of insight and the Force, one would see a different sight. One would witness a tall, unyielding pillar of marble where stood the small boy. He carried two bleeding wounds, one on his right palm and the other on the back of his head, both packed and coated hastily with sand- and most of all, one would notice his lightsaber, hilt crusted with blood where he had gripped it.

If Obi-Wan Kenobi were to ignite his particular blade, Dark Lords of the Sith would know fear.

This supposed boy- this padawan- he could not truly be called a child of thirteen, for he had seen terrible things. He had communed with the Shaman of the Whills, one who did not come from his time, and witnessed the devastation of his future. Most of all, he had deduced that he was destined for greatness in a form pure or twisted, whether or not he wished it- and that was indeed a daunting thought.

Perhaps it was best that Obi-Wan did not care for greatness or achievement, but only to do the task that was before him to the best of his ability. Revanchists would possibly hypothesise that Obi-Wan’s place was at the heart of the Force, as was the progenitor of their order- and ‘Cosmos, Child of the Void’ as he was named, knew very well of the terror he could unleash if he so wished.

It was well, then, that after having seen an Empire of Darkness rise twice and his own self toppling it each time, the small padawan immediately made his way to Master Dooku’s side. His Master would know what to do.

The Danger of Obi-Wan Kenobi was that he did not trust himself; and that made him far deadlier, as he would always calculate his next move- but for the moment, he was still a ginger-haired little padawan, small for his age, who had been shocked by his own gleeful considerations of potential one-sided sparring matches right after he’d gotten his lightsaber.

His master’s presence, guarded and excellently shielded as it was, he knew like no other. He would never forget the abyss, the chasm it led to, and how the flowing strings were frozen over before they could plunge into it.

If the Force here was not directly misleading him, which it could not as it still reeked of _Luke-_ his master had completed his journey along the Path of Revenant. And Obi-Wan now knew it for what it was.

It was doubtless that Master Dooku had made his way from the absolute darkness from within the Labyrinth to the quarters they shared, where he still kept the impossibly refined metals from which Obi-Wan had constructed his own lightsaber.

He could still smell, in his mind, the soothing scent of the burning incense Chirrut had laid for them which had helped him meditate the previous day. Making his way to the main hall, he passed the statues of the Jedi Lords. Lord Hoth, in a Djem-So Wrath Guard, and Lord Valenthyne Farfalla, in a flourishing Ataru boar’s tooth.

Instead of bowing to the statues in awe as a young Padawan should have, Obi-Wan brushed the statues with his force signature in a gesture of grim respect. The Jedi Lords had seen war; as he had, and he saluted them as warriors. He could have sworn he heard a force presence give a stiff grunt of acknowledgement, and another the equivalent of a smile and a charming bow.

Obi-Wan would have suspected he was going insane had he not met the Shaman of the Whills. He now knew better.

The main hall within the domed temple, the circular courtyard with confounding, winding stairs leading to the upper levels and doors on each side, each leading to different rooms loomed ahead. It was here that Obi-Wan could feel the most ancient power within the Temple of the Kyber, apart from the Kyber Labyrinth itself. At the centre stood unyielding the towering figure of Lord Makashi.

He had felt the spirit of Fiore Furl’ano himself before, the master of Ajunta Pall having scared him the first time. And yet when he reached beyond the grave with this curious power that did not belong even to masters, he was sure Lord Makashi would answer. It was answers he needed now, and Obi-Wan _refused_ to be scared. Not after Master Ben- not after Darth Exesus.

He immersed himself deep into the Force, pulling at the strings. He felt the ancient strands twisted and magnified by the Kyber; to his alarm, he realised that the Kyber crystals within his own lightsaber were _far older_ than the ones that made Lord Makashi’s statue. Far older, unfathomably so; and yet they were all ancient, and would be afforded his respect.

**_KENOBI._ **

The powerful tremor shook him from head to toe yet again, but did not send him flying back. Obi-Wan stood firm, allowing it to recede to the lowest strum- and still it beat within him, refusing to die down until he answered.

 _MASTER FIORE._ He returned, releasing his most powerful voice within the Force. It could never reach Lord Makashi’s grand cadence or power, but it was enough- resonant enough for ghosts of millennia past to hear.

**_THOU WOULDST PRONOUNCE ME MASTER, BOY? ‘TIS BOLD OF THEE; THAT THOU SHOULDST CALL TO A NAME THAT HATH BEEN FOREFEIT._ **

Obi-Wan had never expected the full sentence of Challenge to his words, but yet he knew. Had he himself been the inventor of a technique, Obi-Wan knew he would have preferred to be known as _Obi-Wan,_ not by any other name. Perhaps he had assumed incorrectly of Lord Makashi, but ‘Makashi’ was only the name of the saber form of his invention. It was not his own.

 _FIORE IS YOUR OWN NAME, MASTER. PERHAPS IT IS NOT THE JEDI WAY, BUT I WOULD DETEST BEING KNOWN FOR ONLY MY ACHIEVEMENTS AND NOT MYSELF **.**_ He replied.

The statue remained unyielding, and yet Obi-Wan sensed a shift in the Force while in the temple.

**_THEN THOU HAST AUGHT OF EGO. WE ARE IN THAT ALIKE, FLAWED SIMILARLY- AND THOU DOST PLEASE MYSELF BY THINE ADMITTANCE. BUT WHY MASTER? KNOWEST THOU NOT THAT MY TITLE IS LORD?_ **

An unorthodox answer, but one Obi-Wan did not begrudge. So be it if he acknowledged to possessing somewhat of an ego in that regard; he would rather know of it and remain self-aware than suppress it and allow it to fester within.

_WHAT SHOULD ONE BE CALLED? BY THE TITLE ONE INHERENTLY POSSESSES, OR THE TITLE ONE TOOK IN PENANCE TO ATONE FOR THEIR DEEDS? PENANCE DOES NOT CHANGE ONE’S NATURE._

Obi-Wan could feel it. Lord Makashi- no, _Master Furl’ano-_ was pleased.

**_THOU ART THEN FOREMOST TO PASS THY TEST. FOREMOST AMONG JEDI OR SIDHE. FOR THY MERIT, I MAY GIFT NAUGHT BUT WARNING: BEWARE. THY MASTER, THE ONE WHO HOLDETH PLACE AS SCION OF MY LINE- HE IS NEITHER AMONG THE MASTERS OF THE JEDI NOR OF THE LORDS OF THE SIDHE. THOU MUST BEWARE, FOR WHAT THOU CASNT SEE MAY NOT BE VERITY._ **

And Master Fiore’s Force Presence went silent, taking with it the deep baritone and the silent, low strum of music within Obi-Wan’s spirit.

Yet another torrent of information that flooded Obi-Wan, and yet another that was filed away in his mind along with ‘ _Grandson, Brother, Mara, Leia, Technocracy’_ and so on.

He was not sure the meaning of his blade- but perhaps Master Dooku would have some insight. Perhaps he could tell him if his suspicions were correct? If he was indeed connected to the Unifying Force in the way Luke had implied?

As he walked up the serpentine stairway to their quarters, which were at the end of a torch-lined corridor of the same living rock of the Temple, he wondered what colour Master Dooku’s new blade could be.

It was not likely it would be azure- somehow, Obi-Wan had difficulty associating the colour of a Guardian Warrior with the path of a Revenant. It could not be Green, for Master Dooku was certainly no sage; he studied the Force as a science, not an art. It could not be yellow, as that was the mark of utter purity in the Light Side- and Master Dooku was somehow dark, but in a way that made Obi-Wan feel comforted and protected. Master Dooku never would hurt him or anyone he cared for- what, then, would be the colour…

His advance was checked by bloodshine; by the light of a terrible, crimson lightsaber.

Through a gap in the walls of the corridor he was _sure_ had not existed a moment previously, just as it was with the two mirrors and the visions they gave Obi-Wan, walked a tall man in stately brown robes, with a swishing cape and a smile of pure _evil_ emblazoned on his face.

His hair was pure white and so was his beard, each cut meticulously and impeccably. Obi-Wan knew at once who he was.

It was Master Dooku- and then again, it was not. This being could _not_ be Master Dooku, in the same way that he was not Master Ben or Darth Exesus.

“I would suggest you dismiss your thoughts of passing by me and stand aside, my dear grand-padawan.” said _Master Dooku’s voice_ and yet not. It was similarly sonorous and a delight in terms of timbre and cadence, but it seemed somehow more aloof, more cultured and more refined. It carried _none_ of the care that Master Dooku always showed him, none of that unending sorrow Obi-Wan could not describe.

“Taking note of the observation that you are little more than an illusion; a whisper of potential that shall _not_ come to be, I should ask you to take your own advice, impostor. You are _not_ Master Dooku.”

The figure grew even smugger, projecting a callous conviction.

“No doubt.” he said, face morphing into a smile, as if chiding a child with the utmost patience. “No doubt you would think that, _Kenobi._ But then again, you are not wrong. I am not _Master_ Dooku. Indeed, I am more powerful than any Jedi.” said Darth Tyranus.

* * *

Obi-Wan did not know what to do. It was surely a Sith reflection of Master Dooku, but it seemed so much more… _real_ than Exesus had been for him. Exesus had visited him in the long dark of the Labyrinth, while this lord… he stood right outside their current lodging, with an almost nonchalant manner.

It was as if he owned the place and had every right to be there.

“Now- I do believe a padawan is asked to show his lightsaber to his master before igniting it, is it not? As Qui-Gon shall sadly not be joining us, I do believe that honour falls to the grandmaster.” the Sith Lord said, opening his palm and holding it out expectantly.

Obi-Wan almost scoffed. He had seen Sith twice as terrifying as this one, twice as dark, and had just been tasked with ending the most terrible of them all.

“My lightsaber is not something so simple for you to understand, _Darth._ ” he said, copying Master Ben’s phrase. Yet this did not agitate the Sith like it had Vad- _no, his brother_ – for he merely smiled. It could almost be called indulgent.

“I have always maintained that discretion is the better part of valour, grand-padawan. And here lies yet another fault of the Jedi- although foolhardiness has but only one treatment.”

Having barely finished the statement, the Sith Lord lunged forward- _and Obi-Wan saw it coming._

It was almost as if his mind possessed a second sight. He _saw_ the action happening, he saw the Sith Lord changing from the Fool’s Guard to a quick thrust at the opening on his wrist.

Obi-Wan ignited his black blade, and its cold light met the Sith’s red without a spark, a sizzle, or a crackle. _A perfect hanging parry._

The Sith’s blade slid off, and Obi-Wan’s came to a longpoint, pointing at his chest. The Sith smiled yet wider.

In truth, Obi-Wan had believed that he had been slow on the parry, but he had begun moving as soon as his _‘sight’_ had warned him. It worked oddly in his favour, as the Sith was so _fast_ that he moved almost at the same time that he did in the vision; only with a very slight delay.

Obi-Wan was aware of this fact- and where he should not entertain delusions of holding off a Sith lord, vision or not, perhaps he could exploit this fact to his favour.

“Ah, Master Kenobi, you impress me. How fitting that Qui-Gon should speak of you in such high esteem.” said not-Master Dooku, pulling his blade up in a mockery of the Makashi salute.

“But surely then, you can do better still!” he said, with a bark of laughter that reeked of sadism, and began the onslaught.

To the Sith lord, it seemed a form of sport. To Obi-Wan, it was a desperate fight for survival. His defences were obliterated, but he called upon the Force and _Luke_ to send a powerful wave that threw the Sith back.

The Sith’s smile only grew and grew, showing yet more teeth each time, as he came at him again and again in a storm of thrusts, wrath-cuts and master-hews, always seeming to attack and defend with the same strike.

Obi-Wan held him off as long as he could, and he could not explain how long he lasted. He was surely the worse swordsman, and had less strength. Even though the Sith clearly held back, he should not have held on- and yet his black blade moved as if with a will of its own, his mind telling him where the next strike would come. He produced a flurry of single-time counters, some of which were complex and entirely unknown to him, and yet came somehow on pure _instinct._

This defied any rule or axiom of saber-duelling that he could think of, and it still happened.

However, there came a point when his strength left him. His parry was no less perfect for it- but he could seize the initiative, strong as the Sith’s position was. The black blade was cast aside, and the crimson one came to rest at his throat.

“An admirable performance, Master Kenobi- and yet so typical of a Jedi. If you would but accept my teachings, you could be so much more. Together, we could destroy my Master, and rule the Galaxy. Your brat, Skywalker, could serve us from where he cannot possibly touch us. Master Yoda shall soon see the wisdom of my words, and he has not long left. If only you would-“

“You are trying to forestall my death.” said Obi-Wan, cutting through his words. He did not know how he possessed the courage, but he did.

The Sith Lord _stopped._ His brows furrowed, and words rose to his tongue, but Obi-Wan did not allow him to speak.

“I have no wish to bandy words with the crooked distortion of a good man. If you precious Dark Side calls for it, then I bid you, cut off my head. You know I shall never accept your teachings, as the only one I shall ever learn from is Master Dooku. _You are not Master Dooku- and Master Dooku would never, ever hold a saber to my throat._ Go ahead, then- do your worst.”

The Sith snarled.

“Even now you continue to delude yourself. So be it, _Jedi._ ” he said, pulling his blade back for a flourishing, almost ceremonial _sai cha-_ and then the Force _erupted._

Obi-Wan could feel the surge of power in the air, and so could the Sith, as he turned and frowned. Given time, Obi-Wan pulled back and immersed himself yet again. He called for the _strings,_ the strings that were now so familiar to him and had always both guided and served him.

He found the lights along the string, but he did not follow to where the lights were strongest. He followed the path that diverged from the illuminated specks of life to a place of relative darkness.

He found his Master’s presence, surely as he knew it. He had come to the chasm to which there was an unending drop, a tide of shimmering, connected strings flowing down it and forever into the abyss until where they froze.

_How good it would be if the abyss never existed._

Obi-Wan did not have the power to close the chasm- but someone did.

_A little help please, padawan?_

And Luke’s oppressive power flooded his veins, the impossible strength of a burning, eternal supernova illuminating the Force like no other could. The chasm _shut._

“It’s alright, Master. _Your grandson is here. Your grandson loves you._ ” said Obi-Wan, and bit by bit, the frozen strings squirmed with _life._

The waterfall- or rather _string-fall-_ roared to life yet again, the strings cascading to the bottom where they hit and flowed on, strings turning into new strings, old giving rise to young.

And when they met the bottom, they did not go silently, for they flowed on with one singular rumble, directed in Master Dooku’s voice at the Sith Lord. The essence of his Master’s power formed one word.

_BEGONE._

The Sith seemed to _vanish_ in front of Obi-Wan’s eyes, vaporised into the Force- and his master was visible from beyond, white robes swishing, opening the door to their temporary lodgings- and another one to his heart.

* * *

Master Dooku walked to Obi-Wan as if transfixed, kneeling on one knee and placing a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“My dear grandson…” Master Dooku murmured, staring at Obi-Wan’s eyes with wonder and sadness. “You have seen terrible things…”

Obi-Wan would have questioned how his Master knew, if he did not know already. He knew of the wrinkles that marked his eyes, emblazoned upon them as a result of his ordeal. He knew of the lines that had no right to exist on a thirteen year-old’s face, the cheeks that had grown gaunt with the cruel weight of certainty. Cruel, absolute, relentless certainty.

 _“I know, Master.”_ he said, and Dooku reared back. There could be no mistaking the _fear_ in his eyes, and yet Obi-Wan loved his master. His master should know that Obi-Wan knew too; that it was no more his sole responsibility to bear.

“The Shaman told me. I know of Sidious- I know of the Empire.”

“I see.” said Master Dooku, in a clipped tone. “As you clearly know of me-“

“The Sith Lord? No, Luke- that was the Shaman’s name, as you know- he said nothing of you. And I still _love you,_ Master.”

Master Dooku looked away in that _damnable_ manner of his, refusing to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes- but Obi-Wan had learned how a forthright approach might be best for reaching the particularly stubborn from Luke.

“But you know, then, of Darth Tyranus. You know that I did not take you as my padawan for you. You know that I wished General Kenobi. You know that my sole purpose was to craft an unstoppable weapon for those times. How, dear padawan- _how can you ever forgive me?”_ Master Dooku asked, and his look of sorrow was so pitiful that Obi-Wan did the unthinkable.

 _“Oof! Padawan, I…”_ so shocked was Master Dooku by the sudden hug that he forgot to grow stiff as he always did; so overwhelmed was he by the affection Obi-Wan sent along their bond that he did not push him away.

 _“What have I ever done to deserve you, my grandson?”_ Dooku asked, mumbling into Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“It’s fine, master. No one expects you to do everything. You’re still learning, see? Learning, as you told me.”

Dooku nodded a bit stiffly, before abruptly jerking him away with a bit of a mortified look.

“I- I am sorry for having lost my composure, but even then, how you could possibly care for me thus after _him…”_

“Darth Tyranus? He wasn’t the truth, master. Neither was Darth Exesus, whom I saw. If I had grown up to become a Sith, if I had grown embittered and fallen to the Dark Side- that is what would happen. But I’ll not- I won’t because I’ll lose you if I do.” Obi-Wan said. Mentally, he added _“and Luke.”_

“You too, padawan? You too had a vision?” asked Master Dooku. There was something _hidden_ about his words- how he had neither confirmed nor denied that Darth Tyranus had been his vision for his own crystal.

“Don’t worry, Master- who wants the Dark Side anyway? It may be powerful, but it takes over your life. But I’ve learned that one must not singularly devote oneself to the Light as well- or I’ll become Master Ben and do terrible things.” he was sure Master Dooku wouldn’t know the half of these names- but then again, he was the Revenant. It was possible he did- if the knowing glint in his eyes was any indication.

“And you- you shall never fall to the Dark Side. Not if I have anything to say about it. Your darkness is- _comforting,_ in a way, Master. It is good to know that I have a terrifying force behind me, one willing to rend those who would do us harm apart- but you mustn’t lose control and let it consume you. And you _will_ not- not as long as you call me ‘grandson’. If there’s one thing I must ask you, Master- don’t become a different person for whom I am. You are not Darth Tyranus. You may not be a perfect Jedi Master either- but I do not want one to train me. I want my Grandfather- I want _this_ Master Dooku.” he said finally, clutching Master Dooku’s white robe.

The man _broke down in front of him._

He did not release a sound. He did not sob. One could only say that his stiff posture relaxed, which was in his case equivalent to a slump. Two tiny, soft rivulets of tears flowed from his eyes.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan.” said Master Dooku. “You have made me see at last- but now that I see more clearly, I know that I am not enough to be your master.”

_WHAT? NO!_

“I _shan’t_ accept the teachings of any other Jedi, Master Dooku, whether you want it or not-“

“No, no, padawan. I would not give you up for the Galaxy. What I meant is that I cannot teach you _everything._ It is clear to me now that you must learn to use Soresu, as you did _back then-_ for your resilience still is unrivalled. If you use it alongside Makashi, you shall surely be a force to be reckoned with.”

Obi-Wan frowned.

“I’m not going to complain, Master- I know I’ll have to work hard if we are to sort this out- but _Soresu? Really?_ I don’t know if I have told you, but I have acquired a form of _foresight,_ if you will- something that allows me to predict an opponent’s moves before they come.” said Obi-Wan.

Dooku scratched his chin, ruffling the soft beard.

“I see. This has something to do with your eyes, does it not?” he asked, as if in passing.

“What- what’s wrong with my eyes, Master?”

“You do not know? My goodness, I thought you knew everything, now, what with how you were speaking.” said Dooku, furrowing his brow. “Well, padawan, the matter is this.”

Dooku brought out a lightsaber hilt; by its essence, it was clearly his own. The hilt was beautifully curved, as was his previous one, but the haft seemed more fluid. Smoother.

It was of a silver electrum, without phrik involved- silver just as Obi-Wan’s was gold. On it, Obi-Wan could see his own reflection, and it shocked him.

_Where once his eyes were greenish-blue, they were now as silver as the hilt itself._

“Your eyes burn with a hidden flame, padawan.” Master Dooku said.

 _“Cosmos, child of the Void.”_ said Obi-Wan, not even looking. Dooku’s eyes widened, almost comically.

 _“What do you mean, padawan?”_ he asked, seemingly concerned why Obi-Wan would bring this up.

“My name. Obi-Wan Kenobi. It’s apparently more arcane Stuujak- not ‘nothing, child of nothing’. Obi-W-an-Ken-Obi. _Obi_ and _an-Obi._ Cosmos, Void. Cosmos, child of the void.”

“Then we have all been fools! Complete and Utter fools!” yelled Dooku, shaking his head.

“Master?”

“A _Whill_ must have named you, Obi-Wan, a _Whill!_ Ignite your lightsaber! Now!”

In all his life, he had never seen Master Dooku this _euphoric_ before.

The black blade burst out.

 _“By the Force.”_ said Master Dooku, running his hand over his forehead and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Obi-Wan extinguished it and crossed his arms.

“You still haven’t explained, Master.”

“Well, this is an eucatastrophe! You possess Force Sight and must be taught in its ways. You have a connection to the Whills that I cannot decipher. And finally, you must be taught Soresu. The matter is lined up in a manner that strikes me to be utterly ridiculous.”

“In what way, Master?”

Dooku’s voice lowered, as if he spoke of something particularly dangerous.

“There are three masters in the Jedi Order who possess the same prescience as you do. One is not so much a master as a spirit of the Force, and she wanders the outer rim saving thousands a day. Her destiny is not to teach. Master Yoda, who needs no introduction, is the second- and the third is Master T’ra Saa.”

Obi-Wan wondered at why Master Dooku paused at the name of T’ra Saa, fist curling as if awaiting a challenge.

“As you’re clearly contemplating her, master, who is T’ra Saa?”

“The one to whom the rest line up. She is one of the few who have spent time among the Ancient Order of the Whills, and indeed knows where they abide, if my- ah, _espionage_ has been effective. She also happens to be the greatest master of Soresu currently in the Jedi Order.”

Obi-Wan frowned a little, trying to put together the pieces.

“You wish me to train under Master Saa alongside you, then? To learn from her what you purportedly cannot teach, my Master?”

Master Dooku nodded.

“I feel it is pertinent to tell you that Master T’ra Saa is my sister-padawan under Master Yoda, Obi-Wan, and that… she and I- we, ah, we may not get along on the best of terms.”

“I… I see.” said Obi-Wan. He would assume that it was because Master Saa feared Master Dooku in the same way that other Jedi seemed to- but Master Dooku had told him she was his Sister-padawan.

“You sound… not expressly fond of her.”

Master Dooku’s face betrayed a thoughtful expression before he answered.

“That is because Master Saa is _dangerous_ in a way few know. It is to my hope that you learn something of her lethal skill and efficiency while training under her.”

Obi-Wan did not like this. He didn’t like it at all.

“I- I’m sorry, Master Dooku, but could you tell me what her padawans are typically like? I would like to know of her pedagogy and methods so that I may learn best…”

“Her padawans? Why, Obi-Wan, foremost among them stands Master Windu.”

Obi-Wan gaped.

**Author's Note:**

> 'Sith' comes from 'Sidhe', the otherworldly beings of Irish folklore. It was used in line with the other references.
> 
> Part II, Dark Tides Arise, is still a work in progress.


End file.
